


Locked Out

by neverafuckgiven



Series: The Apartment AU [3]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Awkward Flirting, Emotionally Constipated Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, M/M, Oblivious, Pre-Slash, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-27
Updated: 2020-02-27
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:27:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22919938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neverafuckgiven/pseuds/neverafuckgiven
Summary: Geralt gets an unexpected visitor. Turns out Jaskier's managed to lock himself out of his apartment.Set in my Apartment AU. It helps if you read the other ones, but I don't think it's strictly necessary.*Geralt gets approximately three visitors per month. Yen, Ciri, and Vesemir are the only people that actually come to see him, the only ones really allowed to see him. Everyone knows how much Geralt likes people in his home, which is not at all, and, truthfully, Ciri is the only one that stays there. Yen and Vesemir linger for the allotted thirty minutes for small talk and personal updates and then make their polite excuses to go.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: The Apartment AU [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1631164
Comments: 39
Kudos: 912





	Locked Out

**Author's Note:**

> As always, I have read through this like six times, but I'm not perfect.

Geralt gets approximately three visitors per month. Yen, Ciri, and Vesemir are the only people that actually come to see him, the only ones really allowed to see him. Everyone knows how much Geralt likes people in his home, which is not at all, and, truthfully, Ciri is the only one that stays there. Yen and Vesemir linger for the allotted thirty minutes for small talk and personal updates and then make their polite excuses to go.

Everyone else handles their business with him over the phone or they meet him at the Rosemary and Thyme, the diner two blocks down. They know that if they show up to his apartment, announced or otherwise, Geralt either won’t answer the door or, worse, he will answer it and they’ll be dragged all the way down the stairs and tossed onto the curb.

Which is why it’s particularly surprising when Geralt’s halfway through a documentary about fishing and there’s a knock on the door. He sits up from where he’d been laying on the couch, trying to doze, and waits. He must have misheard and he’s about to lay back down when it comes again, four quick knocks. He checks his phone. No messages. He pulls himself to standing and scowls, moving towards the door. Whoever it is better damn well-

He throws it open and blinks twice in surprise; the scowl falls away. “Jaskier?”

The man in question is standing in the hallway, looking sheepish. “I’m sorry to bother you, but do you have Vesemir’s number? I ran down to grab the mail and I managed to lock myself out of my apartment.” Jaskier is indeed holding a small stack of mail, a few envelopes, and a incredibly catty looking magazine, one of the gossip ones he’s seen in waiting rooms. 

Geralt cocks his head and crinkles his eyebrows, taking in Jaskier’s appearance. The man’s wearing a light blue tank top, a pair of pajama shorts with no pockets, and, ah yes, the fuzzy slippers again. “How are you going to call without your phone?”

Jaskier starts to say something and then looks down. He then looks back up and frowns a bit. “I didn’t think of that.” He smiles, embarrassed. “Would you mind calling or maybe lending me your phone? Please? I already checked the office and he has vanished.” 

“It’s Wednesday. He has class.” Geralt leans against the door frame, folding his arms across his chest. “He’ll be home in a few hours. No later than five.” 

“Oh! Alright then. That’s not too bad at all!” Jaskier turns, settles himself down in front of his door, and opens his magazine.

Geralt could shut the door now. The interaction’s over. Jaskier seems perfectly content to wait, reading his trashy magazine, sitting on that disgusting floor-

“You’re not going to ask to come in.” Fuck. Why did he say that?

“I got the impression that you don’t really do guests. I’ve been here three weeks and you haven’t gotten one visitor.” Jaskier doesn’t look up, flicking to the next page. “Plus, I am quite intrigued by the latest Foltest scandal. I’m saving that for after the article about Fringilla. Her look at the Oscars was to die for.”

Geralt’s quiet for a moment, which Jaskier seems to take as his cue to keep talking, mostly about how it was all tripe and the awards ceremony were mostly talentless people patting themselves on the back, etc. It makes sense to shut his door (after he makes sure he has his key) and take a seat next to him, almost close enough for their shoulders to brush. Jaskier takes it in stride, even angles the magazine so Geralt can see, not that he’s particularly interested. He’s mostly just letting the words flow over him since he’s not expected to respond, which is nice. He’s never been very talkative. It’s gotten him into trouble before, not talking enough, even though he listens.

Jaskier’s halfway through a rant about a musical when Geralt finally speaks again, about fifteen minutes later. “No one’s come to see you either.” Maybe he should have phrased that better.

That makes Jaskier pause. He sighs heavily. “There’s a difference between not wanting people to visit you and having no one to visit you.” There’s another moment of silence before he speaks again. “My family and I are no longer on speaking terms and it would be an understatement to say I didn’t make many friends at school.” Jaskier turns the page and makes a cooing sound; Geralt leans a bit closer to look at what is most likely the ugliest necklace he’s ever seen. “Isn’t that amazing? One day I’m going to have enough coin to buy a fourth of that necklace!”

“Thought you’d have better taste.” The thing looks like it’s heavy, impractical with the amount of diamonds and gems are embedded in it; it doesn’t seem to match the man’s personality at all. Then again, he’s only really seen him in pajamas even during the few times they’ve had dinner.

Jaskier makes an affronted sound and starts ranting about jewelry and royalty and it’s another ten minute monologue that has Geralt very close to smiling. The misstep doesn’t seem to have offended him, for which Geralt is grateful. It’s interesting to watch him; Jaskier talks with his hands, animated with both his expressions and his gestures. Normally Geralt hates people that talk this much, finds them exhausting. Something about Jaskier, though, has him caught.

“You don’t have to wait out here with me, you know.” Jaskier bumps their shoulders together, but keeps his gaze forward on the opposite wall. “I’m not saying I don’t appreciate it, of course. It’s probably been the highlight of my week.” The magazine’s closed now, rolled up and being twisted in his hands. “I just hope you don’t feel obligated to keep me company.”

Geralt frowns, his eyes flicking from Jaskier’s face to his hands. “I wouldn’t be out here with you if I didn’t want to.” He nudges Jaskier with his shoulder gently. He’s out of practice, both with the touching and with being gentle. “Besides, I’m learning so much.” He taps the magazine.

Jaskier laughs, loosening his grip on the poor thing, which makes Geralt huff in relief. “Well, I am more than happy to run through it all again any time. Preferably in my apartment and not in the middle of the hallway.”

As if on cue, the door at the far end of the hall opens and Sigismund Dijkstra walks out, stepping out of someone else’s apartment as if he owns it. He’s a large man, bald and well dressed, light hitting his gold watch in spectacular fashion. He takes in the sight of them on the floor with no comment, just assessing. He’ll catalogue this day and turns it over in his mind, trying to figure out how he can play this to his advantage. It’s what the man does; it’s enough to make Geralt tense up all over again. 

“Geralt.” He says finally. “Going to introduce your friend?” Dijkstra keeps his distance, shifting his weight carefully to avoid putting pressure on his bad leg. Speaking of being out of practice-

“Dijkstra.” It doesn’t even sound like a word, much less a name with the way Geralt’s forcing it out, trying to keep himself from snarling like he’s some rabid dog. “Keep walking.” 

“Be nice, now. We’re all neighbors.” Dijkstra steps forward, extending his hand to Jaskier; Geralt does growl then, shifting forward like he’s going to tackle him to the ground. He can feel Jaskier put his hand on his shoulder, not pulling, just resting there. Dijkstra steps back, tucking his hands into his pockets like that’ll keep Geralt from knowing they’re clenching into fists. “I’m just trying to be friendly. I’m Sigismund Dijkstra.”

“How’s your leg?” The question is almost as violent as the memory. It has the desired effect; that smug look drops off the man’s face in an instant. Geralt’s lip is curled into a mockery of a smile, baring his teeth. “Just trying to be friendly.”

The door opens again and Vernon Roche steps out. “Hey! Fuck off. I’m not breaking up another fight between the two of you. I’ve got better shit to do!” The door slams shut, rattling the windows. Geralt can still hear him cursing.

Dijkstra leaves without a word, stomping his way down every step, his gait uneven, distinctive, until Geralt hears the front door swing open and shut. The tension bleeds out of his body then and he lets Jaskier pull him back to slump against the wall.

“That seemed like a perfectly normal exchange. I’m sure you guys are best friends. Do you play gwent together a lot?” The sarcasm isn’t really necessary, but Jaskier’s voice helps Geralt calm even further. Or it would if Geralt wasn’t suddenly reminded of the fact that they’re in the hallway, exposed for everyone to see. He stands abruptly, grabbing his keys. “Oh, Geralt, I’m sorry. I was only joking-“

“Come on.” Geralt takes his extended arm, hauling him up, using his other hand to start unlocking his door.

“Are-Are you inviting me in?” It sounds uncertain; Jaskier puts his hand on Geralt’s, drawing his attention from the door. 

Jaskier looks nervous, hopeful maybe, but cautious, like he’s waiting for Geralt to change his mind. He looks like he’s worried it’s a trick. Geralt lowers his voice, leans in close. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. But I’m not leaving you in the hallway.” Maybe he’d be better off with Triss. “Just until Vesemir’s back. Or I can call-“

“Do you have your sword and your white horse in there, too?” At Geralt’s frown, Jaskier laughs a bit. “You’re my knight in shining armor.” He pats Geralt’s hand. “If you’re sure. The floor out here isn’t exactly comfortable.”

Geralt pushes the door open in response and leads them in before he can overthink it. The place doesn’t look terrible. There are a few dishes in the sink and the whole place could use dusting and it looks dark cause the shades are shut, but it’s looked worse. It’s not exactly a welcoming place though. He’s been told it’s Spartan, no real decorations, a couch and armchair in front of a decent sized television. There’s an end table he’d gotten from Vesemir between them and a coffee table in front of them that’s scuffed from him propping his feet on it. There’s a few beat up lamps that have seen better days, but they still work. 

The door to Ciri’s bedroom is cracked, mostly to honor her privacy and partly to keep her mess out of site. She has a tendency to leave clothes strewn everywhere and textbooks in odd places; he’s found her English textbook in her laundry hamper more than once. He’s not sure where she got the untidiness from. Maybe it’s just the freedom she allows herself in Geralt’s presence, knowing he doesn’t expect the level of meticulousness that Yennefer does or that Calanthe did once upon a time.

His door, however, is open; the pull up bar requires it and he had been on it the majority of the morning. He can see the punching bag and weight set from this angle by the door and, with a few more steps, he’ll be able to see the rumpled sheets on his bed. 

Ciri’s room has all of the embellishments: bright sheets, posters, figurines. Her room looks like she lives in it. Geralt’s apartment just looks like he exists here.

Jaskier doesn’t say a word. He merely sets his mail on the kitchen counter and takes up residence in the armchair; Geralt follows, throwing the blanket over the back of the couch so he can take a seat as well. Jaskier’s lip is curled in disgust. He tenses, preparing himself for a snide comment. He didn’t think Jaskier would turn his nose up at him, but his judgement’s a little biased.

“Why in the world are you watching a fishing program? Geralt, this is reserved for boring, old men that smell like fish and spend their weekends getting up too early to get sunburnt by themselves on a leaky boat and too much time on their hands.” 

Geralt huffs. “I am a boring old man.” He’d forgotten he’d had the TV on earlier. He’d been so focused on Jaskier it slipped his mind.

Jaskier makes a dismissive sound, making grabby hands at the remote. Geralt hands it to him, raising an eyebrow. “I am going to enlighten you just as I did with the gossip. Just sit back and learn.”

He proceeds to flick through the recommendations on Geralt’s Netflix profile, however few there are. He apparently gets points for even having Netflix. It wasn’t exactly his idea, but he’s not planning on mentioning that to Jaskier. Many of suggestions are default ones; Jaskier seems to dismiss some of them based on glances at Geralt’s face when he pauses on them, others on content that just don’t seem very interesting and others still seemingly at random.

“Let’s start with this one and see if it’s up to your standards.” He puts on Hearts of Stone and adjusts in the chair, sprawling with his legs over the arm. 

Geralt nods and puts his legs up, slings an arm along the back of the couch. The show turns out to be a mix of action and horror with more than a little gore. Halfway through the first episode, Jaskier pauses it, glancing over at him. “You didn’t like it.”

“It was okay.” He shrugs. A little dark for his tastes, but something he wouldn’t mind watching again. It’d have to be a good day for it. “You can leave it on if you like.”

Jaskier hums and clicks out of it, starts scrolling again, until he stops on what appears to be a competitive baking show; he holds up a hand when Geralt gives him a confused scowl. “Humor me. Watch it for fifteen minutes and if you don’t want to finish it, we can go to something else.”

They end up watching the whole hour episode with Geralt grunting in protest when Jaskier went to change it after the first fifteen minutes. To the man’s credit, Jaskier doesn’t say a word, just sets the remote back down. It’s a surprisingly entertaining show, the complete opposite of the first in tone, more lighthearted. He has very little knowledge in the way of baking, but it isn’t hard to follow. 

The credits start rolling and Jaskier stretches, shirt riding up just enough for Geralt to see a hint of his stomach. It’s a tempting line of skin and so he checks his phone to avoid staring. 4:30. Vesemir should be back soon if he’s not already. They could probably run downstairs and check. He looks back up and freezes. Jaskier’s eyes are closed, his arms wrapped around himself, turned toward the back of the chair. Geralt whispers his name and the man grumbles, fidgeting a bit in his sleep; instead of waking him, he takes the light blanket and throws it over him.

He steps into his bedroom to call Vesemir, to let Jaskier nap for a bit. Vesemir picks up on the third ring. “Geralt! Everything alright?”

“Jaskier locked himself out of his apartment.” 

“I’m on my way back now. Can he wait for a bit? Should only be a few minutes.” He can hear background noise from the street, knows which block he’s on based on the music the busker’s singing.

“Yeah, he’ll be okay. Sleeping in my chair as we speak.” 

“Oh? He’s in your apartment?” Vesemir says slowly as if he’s speaking another language. 

“Yes.” Geralt rubs his forehead. He shouldn’t have mentioned it.

“I’m just surprised. Normally, you chase everyone out, Ciri being the one exception until now. I thought the boy would annoy you. The two of you are very different.”

Geralt leans against the doorframe, looking out into the living room where another episode of the baking show has started. “Not a bad thing.” Could even be a good thing. Maybe better than good.

Vesemir chuckles. “Okay, I’ll stop asking. I know you well enough to leave it alone.” His voice turns serious. “I haven’t seen you this interested in anyone since Yennefer. I must say I am curious.”

Geralt sighs. “Nothing to be curious about.” He can hear Jaskier shifting, hears his name mumbled in confusion. “Stop by when you get in.” He hangs up and goes back over, coming back into Jaskier’s line of sight, leaning over the back of the armchair. “Sorry. I’m here.”

Jaskier rubs his eyes, sits up a bit. “Where’d you go?” It’s cuter than it has a right to be. Geralt refuses to smile.

“On the phone with Vesemir. He’s on his way back.” Jaskier sits all the way up, goes onto his knees, getting closer, the space between them small and intimate.

“Sorry I fell asleep.” Jaskier laughs quietly. “Don’t think I’ve ever done that in front of someone before. Not in a long time.”

Geralt hums. “Probably because I’m boring.” 

“You know, somehow I don’t think that’s it.” Jaskier runs his tongue over bottom lip; it’s a captivating sight. Geralt can’t help but to lean forward. “That’s not it at all.”

Geralt’s heart is racing; he’s fighting the impulse to kiss Jaskier’s open mouth, put his fingers through that soft brown hair. Jaskier’s breath is coming quickly, his hands next to Geralt’s on the back of the armchair. If Geralt pretends, he can imagine Jaskier wants to kiss him too.

Three loud knocks announce Vesemir’s arrival, prompting Geralt to stand up straight away from temptation. Jaskier slumps and rests his head against the back of the chair.

“I think Vesemir hates me.” Geralt’s already on his way to the door, ignoring Jaskier’s grumbling. “And he seems like such a nice man.”

“Jaskier! Geralt says you’ve locked yourself out!” Vesemir’s smiling when the door swings open. “Allow me to assist.” 

Jaskier has his stack of mail in hand as he brushes by him on his way out, Geralt following a step or two like they’re bound together; as Vesemir unlocks his apartment, Jaskier turns and taps his mail against Geralt’s chest. “What are you doing for dinner? I know you’ve just spent the better part of the afternoon with me, but if you have the time between white knighting and watching boring fishing shows, I’d love to continue this trend we’ve started.”

“I can make time for you.” Over Jaskier’s shoulder, Vesemir is watching the proceedings with thinly veiled interest. Geralt imagines it’s what he looked like earlier watching that baking show. 

The light streaming in from the window makes it look like Jaskier’s cheeks turn pink. “6:30. Don’t be late.” Jaskier turns and with a soft ‘thank you’ to Vesemir, he disappears into his apartment.

Vesemir moves away from Jaskier’s door. “You two are having dinner together? Again?” He whispers. 

Geralt waves him off, fascinated by the carpet suddenly. “He doesn’t mean anything by it.” When he doesn’t hear a response, he looks up. Vesemir doesn’t look impressed. “What?” He growls, but Vesemir’s never been intimidated by him. Quite the opposite in fact.

“I cannot believe I was blessed with a child as dense as you. I love you, Geralt, but, damn, do I worry about you.”

With that, Vesemir pats his shoulder and leaves, mumbling under his breath as he makes his way downstairs. Geralt stares after him for a moment, wonders if he should go after him to inquire further, but he ultimately goes back into his apartment. 

He has to get ready for dinner.

**Author's Note:**

> Gwent is a card game in the Witcher 3.
> 
> Djikstra and Roche are Witcher characters. There are hints to some canon interactions between Geralt and Djikstra that I will get to touch on in future parts.
> 
> Hearts of Stone is a DLC for the game.
> 
> I hope you guys enjoyed it! I really appreciate your comments and feedback!


End file.
